The Resistance
by Die.Hayan
Summary: It's been three years since The Dark Lord has taken over the Wizarding World. Everything is different. And now that his life has fallen to pieces, Draco Malfoy may have found his "something worth fighting for." But will it be enough to take down the dark side? And will it ever be enough to cleanse his guilty conscious?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Hey everyone! Welcome to my new big fanfiction project (my other big fanfiction being my Dramione fanfic called His Mental State, so if you're a Dramione fan, go check that out as well!) I am so excited to start this, I have been thinking about it for quite some time and have finally had the time to sit down and write this.**

 **This fanfiction actually sprung from another short story that I wrote on this site called "The Snatcher" so if you haven't read that I suggest you read it BEFORE you start reading this one, or else you might be quite lost. "The Snatcher" is quite short, so don't worry! I'm not sending you off on an epic quest to read another novel. That being said, "The Snatcher" will be quite a lower rating than this one is for numerous reasons.**

 **This fanfic will include Profanity (so so much profanity) and Scenes of a Sexual Nature so if you are sensitive to that kind of stuff I advice you not to read ahead.**

 **If you have come here from "The Snatcher" welcome! And I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. All characters, items, placed and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

 _Dear Granger,_

 _It has been three years since The Dark Lord has taken power over the Wizarding World. He's sucked the light from the very sky. Every day is dark. Every day is cloudy. Every day it rains. Everything is different._

 _Every shop in the Wizarding World has strict rules. Bookshops are no longer allowed to sell books containing information about the world as it was before. Potions shops and alchemy shops are only allowed to sell artifacts and ingredients containing dark magical properties. New spell books have been written, containing all of the world's darkest spells, including the Three Unforgiveables. Students start learning Crucio by their second year. He calls it "shaping the new generation."_

 _There were a set of trials that started back when he first took power. He called them the End Trials. They were barbaric, and he used them as a sort of entertainment. Purebloods were called upon to watch while two muggleborns and two halfbloods were partnered against each other to fight to the death, without magic. It was mandatory for the first year that the Death Eaters attend, but we all knew better. Despite it no longer being mandatory, we go to every trial. We know that we don't have a choice. What happens to the winner of the trial, you say? He wouldn't just let them walk free, but he did find it in his gracious heart to allow them to live, as slaves for the Pureblood families. I'm not sure which is worse, dying or being enslaved and tortured for the rest of your life._

 _The Ministry fell within the first few weeks. He sent in troops to overthrow them. He slaughtered them all, even the Purebloods. He said he "wanted to start fresh." Now the Ministry is run by an Elite Alliance, called the Specials. Hand picked by The Dark Lord himself. They're in charge of creating new laws and overseeing that the Wizarding World is compliant with these laws._

 _Students now leave home at the age of seven, and unlike back when we were in school they're not allowed to go home during the holidays. Instead they are given a three-week leave sometime in the middle of summer to see their families. It sounds sad, but considering the fact that most Pureblood children are raised by nannies and the household slaves, I suppose they can't really tell the difference. At the age of fifteen, each student is expected to go through a series of tests. They test their magical abilities, as well as their physical abilities, and they are forced to take a Legilimens test, performed by a Special. I don't know what they look for in those Legilimens test, but so far no one has failed. I'm sure the consequences for doing so would be most severe._

 _The Dark Lord no longer lives at the Manor. Now that the resistance is defeated, he moves freely about the Wizarding World, though he mostly stays hidden in his quarters at the new Ministry building, which is no longer located in the muggle world. The old headquarters was burnt, along with everything in it._

 _My father didn't make it. Everything The Dark Lord told me was a lie. He had already been dead long before I had been given the orders to track down Potter, after I failed my mission to assassinate Dumbledore. Because of another set of new laws stating that no Pureblood woman over the age of 22 is allowed to be unmarried, my mother was quickly forced to marry a Pureblood man, whose name is supposedly famous and yet I had never heard of him before. He lives in my home, with his dirty appearance and atrocious table manners. He is a dog compared to my mother._

 _You'd be pleased to know that Harry is alive. We all thought he was going to be dead the minute The Dark Lord got his hands on him, but perhaps that would have been too nice. He's not Harry anymore, though. After hours of torture, both mentally and physically, his mind had gone. He couldn't even form sentences properly, or recall his own name. I guess he had never intended on killing Harry because he always had a bigger plan for him. He broke him down to the point where he was no longer a person, and then he built him back up again. He's not Harry anymore. He's The Dark Lord's personal slave, and he believes himself to be the most devoted Death Eater._

 _Everything is different Granger, and I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry for what I have done. You can't begin to imagine how stupid I feel, for being so blind. But you have to understand that it was all I had ever known. It was all I had ever been taught to believe. I used to think that I had control over my future. I used to think that I had a say in what happens to me. But the truth of the matter is that I don't. From the moment I was born, my purpose was to become a follower for The Dark Lord when he returned._

 _I'm sorry Granger._

 _I'm sorry._

Draco stared down at the letter in front of him. He felt the tears prick at his eyes, and even after all of these years, he still felt so damn frustrated. He felt so pathetic and used. He had been carrying around the guilt with him for years, trying to find some way to cope with it. He had never considered writing her a letter, for there was no point to it. It's not like she was ever going to actually read it. She was gone. She was dead. All because of him.

He slowly set his quill down, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair. He glanced across the room at the full-length mirror, and noticed the dark circles under his pale eyes. He hadn't had a good nights sleep in ages; constantly plagued by nightmares about Granger. Out of everything that had happened, she was the one thing he sincerely regretted the most.

He regretted ever having believed that he had been better than her, because the truth of the matter was that he simply wasn't. Sure, his blood was pure, but that meant nothing when it came to magical worth; to the worth of being a human being. She was intelligent, and witty, and kind, and brave. He was none of those things. And now, because of what he had done, he would never have the chance to be able to be those things, no matter how much he wanted to. For now, all that mattered was surviving another day.

With a heavy sigh, he picked up the letter and began to crumple it up into a ball, tossing it into the bin next to his large mahogany desk and standing to his feet. He had moved into his parent's bedroom, after that disgusting man Lord Duglan decided that Draco's bedroom was far bigger and nicer than this one. He hated that man with every fiber of his being, and he constantly longed to be able to take his mother away from him. But the laws were clear and they had already been married, there was nothing else for Draco to do.

Downstairs in the living room, which sat just below Draco's bedroom, he could hear the man himself, yelling a string of unflattering cuss words that echoed through out the house.

"You're such a useful fucking woman! All you do is sit and play that stupid piano all day! Why don't you make yourself useful and cook me some goddamn food or clean this fucking shit hole!"

Draco's blood began to boil in the slightest, and he clenched his teeth tight together. Lord Duglan always spoke to his mother in the most foul of ways, and he had tried many times to stop him, but it had never done any good. His mother would always yell at him not to get involved and send him off even angrier than when he had tried to intervene.

A loud crash echoed from downstairs and Draco hesitated, listening for any sort of following noise. It was quiet for a long moment before finally Lord Duglan's telltale cussing was back.

"Pick up this fucking mess you filthy mudblood bitch!"

The door swung open and slammed shut, rattling a picture frame that was hanging on the wall. As soon as the door closed, he took off down the hall and hurried down the flight of stairs. Shaking at the bottom of the staircase stood a slender woman with almond colored hair. She wore a tattered gray uniform with a purple ribbon wrapped tightly around her left forearm.

She was Denice, a French muggleborn who had won her End Trials, though Draco wasn't sure how as she was the most skittish and cowardly girl he had ever met. She came under Narcissa's servitude more so than Lord Duglan's, which was probably the greatest luck she could have been graced with, as Narcissa never spoke poorly to the girl or forced her to do any sort of unkind work. However, along with being graced with Narcissa as a master, she also had to work for Lord Duglan.

She turned quickly when she heard him coming down the stairs and she quickly skirted out of his way.

"I.I.. I was just about to.. to pick it up.. Monsieur Malfoy," she stammered through her English, eyes wide.

"Where's my mother?" he asked, ignoring her and disappearing into the living room. He stilled immediately when his saw his mother sitting on the floor, staring at the disaster that was her favorite old piano. The keys were broken and lay on the floor, and the large surface of the wooden piano as cracked.

He stared at her, waiting for her to do something or something to him, but she merely sat there in silence, looking distraught and yet still graceful and powerful. He started towards her, stopping by her shoulder and reaching a hesitant hand out to touch her with his fingertips. She didn't even jump at his touch, merely turning her head slightly in his direction with her eyes still glued to the broken piano.

"Your father had given that piano to me. As a wedding present," her voice never cracked or wavered, but he could see the tear that formed in her eye as she stared at the last remaining artifact of her husband.

He didn't know what to say to her, and so he stood in silence beside her.

After a long moment of silence, Narcissa began to get to her feet. Draco went to help her, but she waved him off impatiently, wiping at her cheeks to get rid of the excess tears that had fallen.

"Where is that silly girl?" she mumbled to herself, turning on her heels and heading out into the hallway.

"Mother," Draco tried to call after her, but she either didn't hear him or completely ignored him as she disappeared out into the corridor. He stood there for a long time in the silence of the Manor, trying desperately hard to think of what to do with himself. He felt completely useless and out of place, even in his own home. It was a feeling that he was becoming all too familiar with.

A sudden knock on the Manor's front door brought Draco back to reality. He took one last look around the room before he started out into the corridor. Opening the large front doors, it took him a moment to realize who was standing on his front steps.

Pansy Parkinson stood, soaked down to the bone, with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode by her side. The rain pattered down on the front steps, and they all merely stared at him, waiting for him to let them in. For a moment, he considered closing the door on them and retiring back to his bed, but he knew that wasn't an option. Instead, he nodded his head to his former housemates and stepped back, granting them entrance into the house.

A few moments later, the four of them sat with hot cups of tea at the large dining hall table. Denice was bent down by the large stone fireplace and was working desperately to start the fire. As a slave, she was forbidden from using any sort of magic to fulfill her duties.

The four Slytherins sat in silence, staring at each other while the muggleborn girl struggled with the box and matches. Neither of them moved or said a word, and after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence, Draco didn't know if he could take it anymore. He stood quick to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. The loud noise made Denice wince and she dropped the box of matches, which rolled out all over the floor. Millicent glanced down at the table in embarrassment, as though she had been the one to drop the matches.

Draco hurried round the table, dropping down to his one knee and scooping up the matches before lighting one quickly. It burned on the end of match and he let it sit for a second before he tossed it onto the logs in the fireplace. They slowly began to burn and gave off a scent of peppermint that had been enchanted onto the logs. He went to hand the box back to Denice and he caught eyes with her. She looked astounded that he had gone out of his way to help her, and that he didn't seem to have any intent on punishing her for working so slowly.

"Monsieur, I'm.. I'm so sor.. I'm so sorry," she stammered, taking the matches back from him.

"Stop, just go see if mother needs help with anything," he said roughly, standing to his feet and shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Denice stared up at him from her spot on the floor, as though she were debating on saying something else, before she quickly lunged to her feet and scurried out the door, closing it tightly behind her. The sounds of the crackling fire filled the air and Draco sat back down at the table.

The group of former Slytherins were engulfed by silence once more, sipping their teas. Finally, Millicent spoke first.

"She's clumsy," the blonde mused, trying to twirl a lump of sugar into her tea without using her hands. Wandless magic was tricky and difficult, but it was something that Malfoy also practiced in his spare time.

"And young," Pansy commented, grasping her cup tighter in her fingers and eyeing Draco from across the table. "How old is she?"

"I don't know," Draco huffed, watching as Millicent's spoon twitched in the sugar pot, slowly scooping up a small amount of sugar before stuttering and falling back into the pot. "We just got her, about three months ago." He continued, trying desperately to fill the silence. He didn't know why they subjected themselves to these uncomfortable meetings. Perhaps it was because being around each other was better than being alone. Now that everything was so different.

"She survived the End Trials?" Blaise spoke up.

Draco nodded his head. "I wasn't there for it, I was on an errand for The Dark Lord."

"Actually, I think I may have been there," Millicent muttered, forcing all of her attention and concentration on the spoon. It scooped up salt again, shimmering and shuttering, it slowly moved it ways towards the cup of tea, where it dumped its contents and then clattered onto the table. Millicent scowled at the useless thing.

"At Denice's End Trial?" Draco asked, raising an interested eyebrow.

Millicent gave up her wandless magic and picked up the spoon, stiring the contents of her tea and finally looking up to catch eyes with him. She nodded her head in thought, "Mhm, I think so. I remember her accent. She had been in the arena with another French boy. He was the first to die, and she yelled something in French. Well," Millicent paused for a moment, looking quite stricken before she said, "more like screamed it…"

"A relative?" Blaise suggested, shifting in his seat.

"I'd rather not think about it," Pansy interrupted, staring down at the table as her perfectly manicured fingernails gripped the tea cup so tight Draco thought it might get crushed.

"Have any of you got jobs to do today?" he asked, directing the conversation off of his new house slave. He felt sorry for her, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear about who had been killed in the End Trial that she may have known. He didn't know if he'd be able to look at her with any more pity than he already does.

"I have," Millicent said, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm to check in on a family on the other side of the city. The Dark Lord thinks there's a Pureblood hiding refugees in her basement."

"Who is it?" Pansy asked, looking over at her.

Millicent shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, "I don't know… She's an old woman. Lives by herself."

"Merlin," Blaise muttered under his breath, glancing down at the tabletop and shaking his head. All three of the Slytherins turned to stare at him.

"What?" Millicent asked after a bit of silence, though Draco assumed he already knew what Blaise was commenting on.

"It's just a bit fucked up, don't you think?" Blaise looked at them all in turn, and when no one answered he continued on. "Whether or not that woman really is hiding refugees in her basement, he's going to kill her. She's old and alone, probably doesn't have any relatives-"

"Blaise,"

"What Pansy? It's true. He's going to kill her, she's of no use to him to anymore-"

"Blaise, come on,"

"Oh what Millicent? You don't want to hear it?"

"No Blaise," Draco stepped in, forcing a commanding tone into his voice. Blaise fell silent and glared at him from across the table. "They don't want to hear about it so lay off." They stared each other down for a long time before suddenly Blaise snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You know," he said quietly, reaching for his cup of tea. "I'm getting real tired of sitting around and just laying off about everything."

Pansy quickly turned her eyes to look at him, her eyebrows furrowing together. She chanced a worried glance at Millicent and Draco before turning back to him. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked just as quietly.

Blaise took a large gulp of his now lukewarm tea before he set it back down, looking around at his old schoolmates. He looked like he wanted to say something. Like, really say something. But the look in his eyes told Draco that he was holding himself back. He shook his head a bit and muttered, "It's just fucked."

"Everything is fucked," Draco agreed, and Pansy quickly turned her gaze onto him. Blaise and him locked eyes for a moment and Pansy started shaking her head.

"Stop it," she grabbed for her scarf and began wrapping it around her neck. "If anyone hears you talking like this, you're the only ones who are going to be fucked. Come on Millicent,"

The two girls began to gather themselves up and head for the dining hall door. Draco and Blaise stood to their feet, watching the girls leave. Pansy stopped at the door, turning to look over her shoulder at both of them. She looked like she wanted to say something, just like Blaise had wanted to say something earlier. They were all constantly on the edge of saying things that they knew they shouldn't. After a moment, she simply shook her before she turned on her heels and disappeared out of the room.

"Another cup of tea?" Draco asked, picking up his empty cup and turning towards Blaise. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over the room, filled with the temptation to talk about all of the forbidden things that he had been thinking about the past few days.

Blaise nodded his head silently and Draco went off to look for Denice. He was hoping that she would be in the kitchen, and that he would not have to travel all over the house to find her. Though Blaise was one of his oldest schoolmates, he still didn't trust leaving him alone in his house. The war had taught Draco not to trust anybody at all.

Thankfully, upon entering the kitchen, he was relieved to see that Denice was busy preparing one of Narcissa's favorite desserts. Probably as a way to calm her down from her recent fight with Lord Duglan. She didn't appear to have noticed him slip in, and he stood by the door for a moment watching her.

She scurried from one counter to the next, her brown hair was stuck up in a messy bun that left strands poking out in every direction and she wore a scarf headband around her head. She had flour running along the side of her cheek and she seemed to be deep in thought while her hands moved mechanically to stir and pour and whisk and stir and pour and repeat.

"Denice," Draco spoke as quietly as he could so as not to alarm her. He did anyway, and she jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping two eggs onto the ground where they cracked and splattered everywhere.

"Monsieur Malfoy! I didn't.. I just.. I am preparing.. I," she fell to her knees behind the counter with a hand towel and began to scoop up the broken eggs. Draco walked forward while she mumbled to herself in French, stepping around the side of the counter and watching her struggle with the small eggshell pieces.

"I was just hoping for some more tea," he said, feeling very uncomfortable looking at her after Millicent had told her the story of her End Trial. He wondered who the other boy was that had died whom she had screamed out for. A boyfriend perhaps? Or a cousin? Perhaps even her father, Millicent didn't specify how old the boy was; he could have been a man.

Denice's dark eyes quickly looked up at him in surprise before she nodded, dropping the dirty hand towel onto the floor and quickly rushing for the tea pot that still sat on the stove top.

"Yes, more tea, of course."

Draco set the two teacups down on the counter top, watching closely while Denice picked up the teapot and checked the contents before pouring them into the cups. Her hands shook in the slightest fashion. She was frail and skinny, and looked to be about sixteen, maybe seventeen years old at most.

She set the teapot down and turned to look towards him, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing her head. "Your tea is ready," she mumbled before hurrying back towards the eggshell mess on the floor. Draco watched her for a moment, debating on saying something else to her, but he had no idea of what to say. Instead, he quickly grabbed up the cups and left her to her work.

When he came back into the dining hall, Blaise was standing in front of the fireplace, staring up at the bare patch on the wall above it. Draco came towards him, handing him his cup and Blaise took it without looking at him.

"Your family portrait used to be here, didn't it?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea. Draco felt himself stiffen up before he nodded, pursing his lips together. "Does your mum miss him?"

"I think so," he said curtly.

"Anything would be better than that Lord I suppose."

Silence fell over them while they sipped their teas and stared into the fireplace. It was Blaise who broke the silence first.

"Things have gone to shit Draco."

Draco turned to look at him with surprise, but Blaise just shook his head.

"Don't give me that. You know as well as I do, this life isn't what you were expecting when you hear that The Dark Lord had won."

He was right, and Draco craved to talk to him about it, but he knew that he couldn't. He knew that Pansy was right. "We shouldn't talk about this Blaise. It's not safe here."

"It's not safe anywhere," Blaise countered, setting his cup on the dining hall table and catching eyes with the blonde beside him. "Pansy turns 22 next month Draco. Do you know what that means?"

Draco pursed his lips together, trying to avoid the conversation, but Blaise wasn't going to let him.

"It means that she will be forced to marry someone. It could be anyone. It could be someone like Lord Duglan," the thought of Pansy marrying someone like that didn't settle right with Draco, but he kept his mouth shut as Blaise continued. "She acts like none of it bothers her. She acts like this is just the way things are supposed to be, but she's scared. Anyone with eyes can see that. Just like anyone can see that this is not the way the world is supposed to be."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Draco asked the question that he knew Pansy had been dying to ask earlier. Blaise snapped his mouth shut and his eyes grew cold as he stared him down, but he didn't have anything to say. "You're not going to do anything Blaise, you know it and I know it. Nobody is going to do anything."

"So this is, just how it is then yeah?" Blaise asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

Draco didn't know what to say, so he distracted himself by taking another long sip of tea. Blaise snorted at this obvious cop out and rolling his eyes again before he brushed past the blonde and headed for the door.

"Sometimes I think we'd all be better off dead," he muttered as he disappeared from the room, leaving Draco alone.

He turned to look towards the fireplace, staring down at the cup in his hands. He remembered the look of terror that had been etched on Granger's face when he had rolled her over that night. When he had confirmed that she was indeed dead, with her eyes wide and forever opened.

Sometimes he felt like they'd all be better off dead too.


	2. Chapter 2

Lord Duglan had come back in a worse mood than when he had left, if that was even possible. Draco had been sitting in the sitting room with his mother, trying to focus on a book that had been published about the Dark Lord only a couple of days after he had taken over the Ministry. It was the Wizarding World's number one seller and every household was required by law to own at least one copy. The Malfoy Manor currently had five on their bookshelves.

Denice sat on the floor by the fireplace while his mother stared at the empty space where her piano used to be. He tried not to look at her and notice the sadness lurking in her eyes.

Narcissa allowed Denice an hour a day to relax and do whatever she wanted. The girl usually chose to spend that time reading or doodling in her sketchbook in whatever room his mother happened to be in. Tonight, she dozed off into the fireplace, a haunted look etched across her pale features.

Draco glanced up from the paragraphs that he had already memorized sitting in front of him. He stared at Denice, wondering about the boy that Millicent had mentioned, and wondering how she had managed to survive her End Trials. He thought about asking his mother, for surely she would know, but he decided against it. Even if his mother didn't look so upset, he didn't know if he'd be able to ask her such a thing. She seemed to have grown a sort of bond with the girl, and though this worried Draco immensely, he couldn't help but be happy that she had found someone to connect with. Even if that person wasn't him.

He could still remember back to that day, when she had refused to look at him, and even shied away from his touch. Ever since that day, she had acted differently towards him, and he knew deep down that it really was his fault.

Denice's eyebrows pulled together in concentration before she turned her brown eyes to look at him. He was so lost in his thoughts of his mother that he didn't even realize he had been caught staring until it was too late.

Lord Duglan came storming in like a tampered spell; destroying everything as he went. He slammed the door shut behind him so hard that the giant chandelier in the foyer swayed. Draco broke his gaze on Denice when he saw her snatch up her sketchbook and jump to her feet in panic.

Lord Duglan stormed past the room, not even bothering to look at the occupants inside, and shouted, "Filthy mudblood! Where are you?" His words were slurred heavily as he started thumping his way unsteadily up the stairs.

Denice hesitated a moment, glancing towards Narcissa, but his mother's gaze never once moved from the empty space of the piano. The frail girl skirted from the room like a mouse and Draco watched her go. When she was gone from the room, he closed the book in his lap and set it aside before standing up and walking towards his mother. He sat himself down on the loveseat beside her and grasped his hands into a tight fist in his lap. He wanted desperately to communicate with her. To talk to her about his father, and about that night, and ask her if this life was what they had always been fighting for.

He wanted to ask her why she had stayed with his father that long, if she had known that this was what was going to happen. That he would follow the Dark Lord until his dying day, and that she would be left behind to deal with the mess he made for them.

But he knew he couldn't. He wasn't even sure she would answer him, and even if she did, with Lord Duglan in the house it would be extremely risky to hold such a conversation. If the drunkard somehow remembered it in the morning, he would turn them both in without a moment's hesitation.

He glanced towards his mother, looking over the soft wrinkles on his face, and the tight line of her lips as she pursed them together. She had dark circles resting under her piercing eyes, and there were patches of gray running through her hair. He didn't give himself time to think before he reached a hand up and moved her hair from her face, leaning in and kissing her gently on the cheek.

"I love you mother," he mumbled under his breath, noting the way she stiffened at his touch. He stood to his feet and walked past her. Trying hard not to look back, he exited the room into the foyer and headed up the stairs.

He had just reached the top of the first floor when Denice came out of a room on the second floor and started heading down the stairs. He stopped and squinted to see her better, noticing the way her hair was down and covering the left side of her face. She almost let her pass without stopping her, but his curiosity was too strong.

"How is he?" he asked, though he didn't particularly care if the sodding brute fell off a balcony in his drunken state.

"He's asleep," she muttered, refusing to look at him and refusing to stop.

He reached a hand out quick and grabbed her by the elbow. She winced and turned her head away from him. He thought about forcing her hair aside, to see what he suspected was a bruise sitting on her face, but he stopped himself. He felt the trembling in her arm and pursed his lips together.

"Look at me when you speak to me," he tried to sound intimidating. She seemed to have frozen in time, for she didn't show any signs of having heard him. He leaned down closing to her before he said softer, "Understand?"

One of her dark eyes popped out to look at him and she nodded her head. He let her arm go and she scurried down the stairs in a haste to get back to his mother's side. He sighed heavily, feeling fatigue run through him and he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes before he started again down the hall towards his bedroom.

He closed the door behind him and reached over his head, removing his sweater vest before working at the buttons of his dress shirt. He stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room, glancing over his appearance with pursed lips and judging eyes. Never before had he had a problem with his own appearance. Perhaps he was a bit skinny, he knew, but his features were sharp and his eyes a piercing blue and his hair soft; he had always figured that he been enough. He was a good height and his tone perhaps a bit pale but again, he found himself to be quite attractive.

That was until that night, of course. He had never been able to look at himself the same. He saw the small boy that he used to be, so misguided and cruel. He had never noticed it, it had always been second nature to him; a skill that had been taught to him. But now that he knew the truth, or perhaps was beginning to see the truth, none of it seemed to make much sense anymore.

He reached a hand up and traced over his pronounced collarbone, moving aside the shoulders of his dress shirt and touching the pointy edges of his shoulders. He was lanky and slender, perhaps even more so than when he was younger, considering most days he failed to have any sort of appetite. He noted the gray of his eyes had darkened over the years, and he touched at a small scar that sat on his chin. He knew he had gotten it from chasing Harry and his friends, but he couldn't remember when or how.

Peeling the shirt from his arms, he tossed it aside and took the time to stare hard at the black blotch that sat on his forearm. The Dark Lord said that, that mark made him special. Not as special as the Elites that ran the government now, but a different type of special. That mark branded him as a survivor of the war, and gave him authority over those who did not have it. That mark, the Dark Lord said, shows his loyalty to righteousness.

What a load of shit.

He turned his forearm away so he couldn't see the mark in the mirror and instead caught sight of the thin, pink scar that ran along the backside of his hand. He stared at it before he brought his hand up to his face, running a finger over its tattered edges. Granger had got him good with that spell, he still didn't know what one she had used.

" _Not so different from your blood, is it Malfoy?_ "

He closed his eyes and forced the images from his mind. He was far too exhausted to think about Granger tonight. Shaking his head, he unzipped his trousers and tossed them into the bin of dirty clothes before he started towards his bed. He pulled the sheets back and slipped inside, already feeling sleep over take him by the time his head landed on the pillow.

* * *

He heard the noise before he was even fully awake. It entered into his subconscious, prodding him away. The second time it came, his eyes flashed open instantly in panic, and he lunged for his wand on his bedside table.

" _Lumos_ ," he whispered, and as his wand lit with a blue hue, he glanced frantically around his bedroom. The shadows played with his eyes and he slowly pushed the sheets back and stepped out of bed. He had just straightened up when the sound of something ticking his window made him jump.

He approached the window cautiously, muttering _Wingardium Leviosa_ under his breath to unlatch the window and slide it open. He glanced out into the darkness, squinting his eyes to try and see through the thick darkness.

"Draco," the whisper came from below and he turned his head down.

A cloaked figure stood in the midst of his mother's garden. His heart began to pound when he saw the curly tips of brown hair peeking out from the hood. He went to say something back, but a lump caught in his throat. He turned his wand over to readjust his grip.

"Draco, is that you?"

He recognized the voice and he suddenly felt a wave of disappointment course through him. He tried not to think about it.

"Millicent? What are you doing here?" he whispered back. The cloaked figure removed her hood and Millicent's large eyes looked up at him through the dark.

"Can I come in?" she asked, ignoring his question.

He wanted to tell her to go away, to leave him alone, and to tell Pansy and Blaise the same, but instead he merely motioned his hand to have her wait there and closed the window of his bedroom. He snuffed out the light of his wand and grabbed for a robe, quickly putting it on before he started out of his bedroom into the dark hallway. He moved as quietly as he could, not wanting a run in with a hung over Lord Duglan or to accidentally wake his mother.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to head towards the back of the house. He entered an all glass room; a later attachment to the mansion that his mother had requested. The room was filled with potted plants of all kinds that his mother had been growing since he were a young boy, perhaps even before that. He headed towards the door that led out into the garden and opened it.

At first, he didn't see Millicent anywhere, and anger sprang up inside of him at the thought of her waking him up and then leaving. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head and he saw her stooped over a flower.

"Millicent," he said, perhaps a bit harshly to get her attention.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up at him before she got to her feet and hurried for him. He closed the door behind her and she turned to him. He was just about to ask her what she thought she was doing here in the middle of the night when he caught the glistening in her eyes. He froze instantly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Blaise was right," she whispered in the dark, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "He was right Draco. I… I went to see that woman, you know, the one I was telling you about today? I searched her whole house and she didn't have a single refugee there. No muggleborn or blood traitor to be found. She collects umbrellas you know? Neat little umbrellas that she got from all over the world, she was showing them to me."

Draco shook his head as Millicent began to ramble on but he quickly interrupted her.

"Millicent, what was Blaise right about?"

A choked sob came from the darkened figure in front of him. "He's going to kill her Draco. I went to see the Dark Lord after to report that she wasn't hiding anybody, and he said that he didn't trust her, and that she had tricked me and she was of no use to him anymore anyway. He's going to kill her tomorrow Draco and he… he…" Another choked sob echoed through the glass room.

"He what Millicent?" Draco asked roughly, growing frustrated and more uncomfortable by the minute.

"He told me I have to be there. Oh god Draco, he's going to make me go back and she's going to see me after I told her that everything would be fine and he's going to kill her."

Millicent began to break down and Draco hesitantly reached a hand out to grasp her shoulder. He didn't know why she was here telling him this, or what she expected him to do about it. The Dark Lord gave his orders and they were always final, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"Millicent… I don't understand, why are you here?"

She quieted for a moment before she looked up at him through the dark.

"I… I was hoping you could come with me tomorrow."

He dropped her shoulder faster than he meant to, and she grabbed his hand with both of hers in protest.

"Please Draco, I can't go by myself-"

"Well, you have to." He said, trying to tug his hand away.

"You don't have to do anything, you just have to come with me-"

"He didn't ask me to come Millicent, I can't just show up-"

"But you're his favorite. You brought him Potter, and your family-"

"That doesn't mean anything!" he shouted at her, yanking his hand out of her grasp. She clutched her hands together and stared him, a shocked expression etched a crossed her face. "I can't go Millicent. He didn't ask me to come. I can't go with you."

Silence stretched between them and he tried not to look at her. He knew what she was doing. She thought that because he had brought the Dark Lord Potter, and that his family was in semi-decent standings with him, that if he showed up he could get away with it. But nobody got away with anything when it came to the Dark Lord, and she knew that just as well as he did.

"I just thought…" she whispered, lowering her hands to her side.

He cringed, wishing for this exchange to be over.

"I can't," he stated again.

She stared him down; he could feel her eyes burning into his skull.

"You should go," he said quietly, gesturing towards the door he had just let her in through. She stayed where she was, and he worried that she was going to make him say it again. Finally, she reached over her head and put her hood back up before she started towards the door without a word.

She opened it and went to step outside before she stopped and turned to look at him. He glanced up and caught eyes with her, noting the mascara running down her cheeks and the scared look behind her eyes.

"Thanks for nothing Malfoy."

She slammed the door and disappeared into the night and Draco stood there looking after her, unable to move.

* * *

He didn't know how he had managed to make it back up to his bedroom, but the next thing he knew he was being shaken away.

He blinked his blurry eyes against the sun, forcing himself to sit up. His mother sat on the edge of his bed next to his discarded robe and he was surprised to see her there. He glanced about the room, noting Denice standing in the doorway watching them. Her cheeks tinted a slight pink and she turned her gaze away from him. He glanced down at his naked chest before his mother spoke and forced him to look at her.

"I wanted to give you something," she said quietly and he noticed the wrapped present grasped in her hands for the first time. He scowled at her, his eyebrows pulling together as he sat up a bit straighter.

"Oh," he said, unable to come up with anything clever to say.

Narcissa glanced down at the present in her hands before she took a shaky breath and looked back up at him.

"I know I haven't… I know things have been difficult…" she paused and her eyes seemed to be searching for the right words to say.

"Mother," he interrupted her, drawing her attention to him. "It's okay." And he meant it. He knew things hadn't gone the way they were supposed to go. None of them could have ever predicted to be living a life like this, especially one without their father. And though Draco knew what a git his father could be, it was clear that his mother still loved him terribly so, even after he had passed.

She sighed and held the present out to him.

"It's not much, I know. Lord Duglan keeps our funds tightly wrapped in his drinking habits,"

Draco shook his head to cut off her apology, reaching for the present and drawing it into his lap.

"I know, really," he said, grasping the present tight in his fingers. "Thank you."

She stared at him for a moment before, hesitantly, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He stilled from shock. She hadn't reached out to him in years, the act almost felt completely foreign to him.

"I love you too," she whispered, before she stood to her feet and headed towards the door. "Come Denice," she commanded, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder before she disappeared from the room.

Denice glanced after Narcissa before she turned to look back at him. Suddenly, she was walking into his room, heading towards his bed. She approached his nightstand and reached into the folds of her baggy clothes. She pulled out something wrapped in newspaper and set it on his nightstand.

"What is that?" he asked, turning his gaze away from the newspaper and looking at her.

She caught eyes with him before she whispered, "I see you writing sometimes…" she glanced at the waste bin by his desk before she turned quickly and scurried from the room after his mother, closing the door tightly behind her as she left.

Panic washed over him and he lunged from his bed, diving for the bin. He reached through the few pieces of crumpled up paper, unfolding each other and reading over his own handwriting. He found some starter letters that he had written to Blaise, Pansy and Millicent, but his letter to Granger was missing.

He turned towards the door where Denice had left, feeling both fear and anger course through him. If she had read that letter, she'll have known how he thought about the Dark Lord. She'll use it as ammunition against him for sure.

He stood and rushed to his bedside table, picking up the newspaper and quickly ripping into it. He stopped when he saw the corner of a leather bound book peeking out of the wrapping. He sat down on his bed, debating with himself, before he began to peel the rest of the wrapping away a little more gently. When all the newspaper had been removed, he turned the book over his hands.

The book was old, for the cover seemed to be bent in one corner and soft, as though it had been carried for many years. He cracked open the pages and noted that there had once been writing inside, but it had been painted over. He flipped through the pages and noted that the whole thing had been erased and was now empty.

He opened to the first page, perhaps expecting to see a note, but he stopped when he saw his letter to Granger taped to the first page. He knew it was his letter because there was nothing else that it could be.

On the inside cover he saw she had scribbled two words.

 _Dear Granger_.

He didn't know how to feel as he let the cover close and he held the book in his lap. She hadn't turned in the letter, in fact she had given it back to him, but it made him feel uncomfortable that she had entered his room, dug through his trash and had read his letter to a dead muggleborn and old school mate that he had killed.

He set the book down on the bedside table on top of the ripped newspaper and rested his forehead in his hands, forcing himself to calm down.

After a few moments, he reached around behind him and grabbed for his mother's present. He ripped at the packaging and opened up the box square box. Inside sat an onyx watch with silver trimming, but it had no numbers around the ring. Instead there sat the family crest, and a small, circular pool of black liquid in the very center.

He had read about these watches, but had never expected to have one in his possession. They were marked as dark artifacts, though there hardly seemed to be anything dark about it besides its color. These watches were used during the first wizarding war by death eaters as a way to communicate. Messages could be programmed into the watch and sent to someone who had the same numbered accessory; whether it be another watch or a necklace.

He rubbed his thumb over the face of the watch, and he could see little blue lettering appear in the small dark pool. _Happy Birthday Draco_ looked back at him for a few moments before disappearing back into the liquid.

He slipped the watch on his wrist and tightened it before he stood to his feet. He threw the wrapping and the newspaper into the waste bin before he pulled out another pair of trousers and a dark dress shirt. He slipped into his clothing, trying hard to avoid the mirror in the corner of the room. He was just buttoning up his cuff sleeve when the notebook on the table caught his eye again.

He walked over to it, touching the front of his gently. He barely heard the loud knock on the knocker on the front door until his mother opened the door and began to converse with someone in muffled tones. He picked up the book and his cloak before he started out of his bedroom and into the hall.

Down in the foyer room he caught sight of his mother at the door, and Pansy stood on his porch. Her hair was perfectly combed as usual, pulled back into a ponytail with pins holding back the loose strands. She wore a long skirt and a cloak, and she had her arms crossed over her chest like she was uncomfortable.

"Won't you come in for some tea, Pansy?" Narcissa was asking. Denice stood a few paces behind her and she turned to look at Draco when he came down the stairs.

He caught eyes with her and he noticed her looking at the notebook in his hand. He nodded towards her curtly, and she bowed her head to look at her feet.

"Actually, I was just wondering if Draco could come for a walk with me, to get some fresh air you know?"

Draco turned his eyes towards Pansy when she mentioned his name to see that she was looking right at him.

"Draco has to go into the city today," Narcissa said, a little harshly. It wasn't that his mother hated Pansy, she had always had a soft spot for the girl, but now everything was different. Pansy asking Draco to go for a walk could mean that she had a mission for him to complete for the Dark Lord.

"It's alright mother, Pansy can walk me to the apparition point," he cut into the conversation, nodding towards the raven-haired girl before he turned towards his mother. "I won't be long, I'll be back by dinner." He reassured her, nodding his head.

She nodded towards him curtly and he turned to follow Pansy off the porch. He heard the door close behind him and he sighed before throwing on his cloak and stuffing the book deep inside one of the pockets.

The two former death eaters started out into the road, heading towards the apparition point near Draco's house. The Malfoy Manor sat in the middle of the country side, in seclusion from any other houses, and the walk to the point took a couple of minutes to get to. He assumed that Pansy would use that time to tell him why she was there, but halfway to the apparition point and she still hadn't even looked at him.

"What are you doing here Pansy?"

She glanced over at him and he caught her eyes. She looked worried about something, and she rubbed her gloved hands together.

"I always liked the fall," she said, trying to avoid the conversation.

"Pansy," Draco said, beginning to lose his patience.

She sighed, glancing away from him to look around swiftly to make sure that they were alone. She stopped walking and he stopped beside her, taking in her skittish behavior.

"They're… they've been talking about it, Draco."

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Who has been talking about what?"

"My parents," Pansy seemed to become even more distressed. "They're talking about the… the marriage."

Draco remembered what Blaise had told him the other day about Pansy's birthday coming soon, and how she'll be forced to marry someone under the new law.

"Who?"

"I don't know," Pansy confessed, her shoulders dropping. "They won't tell me." She stared down at her black shoes for a while and he thought about saying something but he had nothing to say so he merely sat there quietly and watched her. Finally, she turned her gaze up to look at him. "It won't be that bad, right?"

He blinked at her, not knowing what to say. It could be bad, it could be very bad, she could end up being with someone like Lord Duglan, who drank and yelled and treat her like shit but couldn't get in trouble for it because divorce and abuse didn't exist in this world. He went to open his mouth, to say these things to her, but she interrupted him; shaking her head with tears budding in her eyes.

"Don't you dare Draco Malfoy. Don't you dare tell me all the bad things that will happen."

He was surprised momentarily, and his mouth simply hung open before he quickly closed it. A tear slipped down her pale cheek.

"Tell me it won't be that bad," she demanded, her fingers curling into fists by her sides. "Tell me."

He didn't say anything, because he knew it wasn't true. He knew that there was no way of telling how this would end for her. There was nothing he could say to her to make her feel better about anything. Because it was still going to happen. She was still going to be forced to marry someone else and that was just the way it was going to be. Nothing he could say or do would make any difference.

"Tell me Draco!" she yelled, her voice becoming desperate. He shifted on his feet, feeling almost as uncomfortable as he had when Millicent had come to him the night before.

"You're such an asshole," she muttered, before collapsing against him, her hands gripping tight to his shoulders and burying her face into his chest.

He stiffened at first, though he didn't move away. He let her cry into his chest, for it was the only thing he could think to do. What did she want him to say? He couldn't bring himself to tell it was going to be okay, but if things went to shit, he knew he would be responsible for giving her that small moment of hope.

"Hug me," she grumbled, once her tears had stopped falling.

Unable to come up with anything else, he did as he was told, reaching his arms around her waist and hugging her to him. The act felt extremely wrong, he couldn't remember the last time he had hugged someone that wasn't his mother. He didn't think he had ever hugged someone that wasn't his mother.

Pansy sighed and the warmth of her breath settled into his cloak before she pulled away from him. He dropped his arms instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. She wiped at her tears, making sure the mop up her running mascara before she sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"Millicent offered to have us over tonight for dinner. Her folks are away, something about visiting relatives."

"She won't want me there," he said, already knowing it to be true.

"She told me about last night," Pansy said and he winced at this. "She still told me to let you know."

He stared her down for a moment to decipher if she was lying, but Pansy had always been good at keeping a poker face.

"Did it… happen?"

"Earlier this morning, yes." Pansy tightened the scarf around her neck before she turned and started heading towards the apparition point. Draco had no choice but to follow after her.

They walked in silence, neither one of them looking at the other. When they finally reached the cross road, Pansy turned to look at him.

"Come to Millicent's."

Draco looked at her, preparing to tell her that he wasn't going to go, but the look on her face made him stop. He didn't want to leave his mother alone for the night with Lord Duglan, but she had Denice with her, and he could really use a night away from the house. He nodded his head.

She disappeared the next second and he was alone again. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before he closed his eyes and pictured the city. In the next second, he had disappeared with a quiet pop.

* * *

 _Dear Granger,_

 _It's just like Blaise said. Everything is fucked._

 _Millicent was forced to watch an old woman die today, for a crime she didn't commit. Pansy is being forced to marry, and she doesn't even know to who she is forced to be married to. Blaise is becoming anxious. It is clear his hatred for this world that we now live in, that we helped create, but sometimes I think his hatred gets in the way of his common sense. I keep waiting for the Dark Lord to call a meeting, and in that meeting he will tell us all what happens to traitors, and he will kill him right in front of us. I can't say that I'm worried about him, but I do hope that he gets his act together._

 _The muggleborn slave we have, Denice, gave me this book that I am now writing to you in. She is clever, I'll give her that._

 _I want to make things better. I am not seeing all of the bad in this world, and thinking that it's just the way life is. I just don't know what it is everyone wants me to do about it. It is not in my hands to fix everything; to bring back all of those who had died and to recreate the world we had all lived in before. There are many things I wish I could take back, and many things I wish I had the power of doing. But I am not strong, and this is not my fight, and there is nothing I can do._

 _There is nothing strong enough worth fighting for._


	3. Chapter 3

He slipped the button down over his pale shoulders, clasping the buttons together one by one. Rain was trickling down outside, pattering almost too quietly to hear against the glass of the windows. The sun had gone down about an hour ago, and Draco knew he was late to get to Millicent's. He couldn't help dragging his feet. As much as he wanted to escape this hell of a mansion, he was hesitant to leave his mother alone.

Besides, it's not like going over to Millicent's for some food was going to change the world outside the windows of her kitchen. They were all still going to be Death Eaters, basically orphaned in a dystopian world that no longer held any significance. They were still going to be worthless.

"Monsieur Malfoy," a timid voice muttered from the doorway.

Draco nearly leapt out of his skin. He turned on the heels of his pointed dress shoes towards Denice. She stood in the open doorway, her tattered dress hanging loosely over her skinny body. In her small hands she grasped a brown paper bag tightly, as though she were afraid of dropping it.

"The wine you requested…" she said, taking a step forward before thinking better of it and rooting herself to the spot.

"Leave it on the table," he commanded, suddenly aware of her eyes wandering to his left sleeve. He hastily buttoned them up as Denice ducked her head and made a beeline for his desk.

She placed the brown bag on the desk, careful not to tip the bottle inside over, before she scurried for the door. She paused on her way out, and Draco could see her in the reflection of the mirror as she turned back to look at him.

"Will you… be out all night?" she asked, gripping the door handle hard. She was more skittish and quiet than normal, and he wondered if Lord Duglan had gotten in a beating whilst Draco had been away in the city.

"I'm not sure," he said, trying not to look at her. The last thing he needed was her getting her hopes up that he was something good to be around. If Lord Duglan wanted to take a swing at her while he was there, he wasn't going to stop him. He shouldn't have been nice to her at all in the first place. But she was meek and small, almost childish, and it was hard not to at least treat her with some type of decency. Granger would have wanted that.

She was still standing there, staring at him through the mirror. He turned hard on her, suddenly growing impatient and antsy.

"Leave me."

It came out harsher than he meant it, but she scurried from the room and was gone in a flash.

* * *

He could hear the noises of everyone inside before he even reached the front steps. You'd think there were more than three people inside, with the amount of ruckus that was going on. Draco fixed the collar of his button down, readjusting his grip on the neck of the bottle of wine. He wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't nervous to see Millicent after last night. He was fully expecting her to scream and throw punches, or perhaps he should expect the silent treatment. Though the silent treatment was more of Pansy's thing.

While he was standing on the front steps contemplating this, the door swung open and the night was flooded with bright light from inside the home.

He blinked rapidly and spotted Pansy's lithe figure standing in the doorway. She was wearing a short black skirt and a half shirt that showed off her milky white midsection. On her arm sat enough bracelets and bangles to conveniently- or maybe purposefully- cover up the dark mark from view. He hardly had time to focus on her appearance, however, before the sight of her hair caught him off guard.

Her once long and flowing locks were now chopped off up to her ears. Though her hair was sleek and straight, he could see the uneven ends, and he guessed that probably it was a work of art that she had done herself.

"Hey, you came," she said, not sounding surprised at all as she reached for the bottle of wine. She plucked it from his fingers and held it up into the light to inspect the bottle.

"Your hair is gone," Draco said, feeling incredibly stupid for not coming up with something a bit cleverer to say.

"And you're a genius," Pansy said, casting a wink in his direction. It was then that he smelled the sweet tinge of alcohol lingering about her. "Come on, dinner already started."

She turned on the heels of her high shoes and started down the hallway, leaving the door open behind her. Draco glanced around, feeling as though he were being watched now that he was alone, before he headed inside, closing the door firmly behind him. He glanced around at the white walls, taking in the fact that there were no pictures to be seen anywhere. He had never been to Millicent's home before, but with her bubbly and outgoing personality, he would have expected perhaps a more outgoing home.

The sounds grew louder, and Draco was able to distinguish voices coming from a door at the end of the hallway. Millicent and Blaise's voices. It sounded like they were having quite the heated conversation. Not wanting to miss all the fun, Draco quickened his pace.

Pansy was sitting at the table, downing the last of the wine from her glass and watching with flickering eyes as the conversation bounced between Blaise and Millicent. Blaise was sitting down, a piece of beef on the end of his fork that he waved around in circles whenever he was trying to make a point. Millicent stood up from her seat, her glass of wine clasped tightly in her fingers as the red liquid sloshed down her fingers whenever she moved too quickly.

Neither of the two noticed as Draco slipped quietly into the scene and sat himself down beside Pansy, quickly piling his plate with food and pouring himself a glass of wine.

"So you're saying that just because you had higher marks in Hogwarts that you're more qualified for the job than me?" Millicent's words were sloppy and slurred, and Draco began to think about how many drinks she must have already had.

Blaise's eyes flickered to Draco, and he sent a smirk his way before he proclaimed loudly, swinging his beef-laden fork into the air.

"Nope! I am saying I am more qualified than you because I am a man and you are a woman!"

Millicent let out a squeal before charging around the table. Blaise leapt from his seat in a flurry, dancing out of her grasp. It was almost magical. The change in the atmosphere shifted and Draco felt the world slip from his shoulders. He watched with amusement as, for the first time in a long time, laughter filled the air around him. Genuine, drunken laughter that slipped between his ears and made his brain go fuzzy without having to drink any sort of alcohol.

Millicent leapt onto Blaise's back and he reared backwards, grasping her knees tightly so she wouldn't fall. Millicent's blonde hair flew back in waves as she threw her head back and let out a joyful yell.

Draco was watching the scene unfold. It almost didn't seem real. Something picked at the back of his brain. As though something were amiss and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He felt fingers touch his knee and he jerked his head around to look at Pansy. Her slender fingers were wrapped tightly around his knee, and her head lulled to the side, her mouth half gaped with laughter as she watched Blaise and Millicent rough house. There was a twinkle in her eye that he hadn't seen since their days at Hogwarts.

He set his fork down, leaning towards her.

"What spell are you under?" he asked quietly, his eyes straining to see if she would lie to him.

Her piercing brown eyes were quick to round on him, and they focused for only a moment before a smile split across her face, squinting her eyes half closed. Her fingers tightened on his knee before she reached her free hand over to the half bottle of wine in the center of the table.

She poured him a slow glass, her eyes glistening with excitement. It took as his willpower to turn his eyes away from her face, but that's when he noticed it.

As the red liquid trickled out of the bottle and into the glass, a smoke of blue hue trailed out with it. It shimmied and glowed, swirling out of the bottle and up to the ceiling, before disappearing into thin air.

Pansy topped off the glass before setting the bottle aside and picking it up. She twirled the red liquid around inside, bringing it to her nose and smelling it momentarily before she handed it over to him.

He hesitated, his eyes glancing over at Blaise and Millicent, who were still stuck in their endless game of tag.

Spells such as this were illegal in their new world. Celebrations and happiness were to be kept at a minimum, to prevent hope from growing. If any of them were caught, they would be killed instantly. This thought made his heart plummet down into his feet.

"This stuff is illegal Pans," Draco muttered, turning back to look at her. Her expression startled him.

Gone was the cheek splitting smile and the muffled laughter that would escape from her lips. Her eyes were welled up with tears that she didn't let fall, and she grasped the wine glass tight in her grip.

"I need it…" She whispered to him, as though Blaise and Millicent weren't even in the room. "I need to feel this way again. Just one more time. Just one last time. Before…" her eyes grew hazy before clearing suddenly. She blinked a couple of times and the tears she had been holding back disappeared.

He didn't know why he did it. Every bone in his body was screaming at him not to. Every logical sense in his brain was telling him to pick himself up from this situation and to go home, before things got out of hand. But he just couldn't.

He reached out and took the glass from her hands, twirling the liquid in a slow circle once before pushing it to his lips and tipping his head back.

The dark liquid slithered down his throat, but the bitter taste of wine was replaced by a fire that consumed him. It tore down his throat and settled into his belly, warming him.

He opened his eyes and the world around him glowed.

The chandelier above the table shone brightly, sparkling light in every which direction. Blaise and Millicent's laughter was muffled in his ears as they galloped around the room. Tears of laughter were streaming down Millicent's face, smearing her mascara, but she seemed far too preoccupied to notice.

Draco glanced at Pansy's face and saw her smiling again, this time at him. She watched his reaction closely, smiling and giggling behind a manicured hand.

That was when Millicent finally noticed him. She swung around to grab Blaise and stopped in her tracks, but her smile did not filter like Draco expected it to. Instead, she let out another loud squeal of excitement. She practically skipped across the kitchen over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and squeezing him from behind. She buried her head into his neck and giggled uncontrollably, muttering something against his skin that he couldn't catch.

His bewildered expression must have looked hilarious, as Pansy threw her head back and laughed. Her excitement was cut short as Blaise grabbed her hand and lifted her from her seat, twirling her around.

Everything felt light. Nothing felt real. It was like a dream. Draco couldn't even remember what the outside world looked like, or even that it existed at all. He watched Blaise run around the house, ecstatic about something that no one could see. He didn't understand a word anyone said. Every time someone spoke, it was like he was being submerged underwater. His worries lifted and faded as he watched Pansy and Millicent dance around the living room.

It was an endless loop of muffled laughter and casting spells just to watch the sparks bounce around the room and leave trails of light hanging in the air. Millicent flew through a misty trail of light and it floated around her. She spun in circles and circles, flinging her hands up in the sky and laughing.

Her hand landed on Draco's wrist and she yanked him into the mist with her and they spun. Around and around and around. He watched the world pass around him in a blur.

Millicent's ruined make up, Blaise's bewildered expression, Pansy's laughing face. Over and over he watched the scene play out as he spun and spun.

Suddenly, the world collapsed around him and he fell, hitting the ground hard.

The smack echoed in his skull and he closed his eyes as the sound of the world came flooding back into his eardrums. He stayed completely still, listening for the sound of Blaise's yelling or Pansy's laughter or Millicent's squeals. But he was met with complete silence.

After a long pause, Draco slowly opened his eyes, and was surprised to find the living room around him was almost completely dark, save for a small ball of light floating in the corner. He didn't trust himself to move, as he still couldn't quite feel his legs.

A snore ripped through the silence, startling him completely aware of his surroundings. He was lying on the wooden floor of Millicent's living room, with something soft tucked under his head. He jerked upright, glancing around the dark room with hurried eyes.

Blaise lay sprawled out on the couch, snoring away with a vase clutched in his hand. The flowers from the vase lay on a heap on the floor. Millicent was curled up in the armchair like a cat, her knees pressed up into her chest and an arm slung up and over to cover her face. From the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest, Draco could determine that she was in just as heavy a sleep as Blaise was.

"Why do you dream about Granger?"

Pansy's quiet voice whispered up to him in the darkness and he glanced down beside him. She lay on the ground next to him, covered in a small, thin blanket that someone must have dragged down from upstairs. Though she spoke to him, her eyes were staring up at the ceiling. If he looked close enough, he could see the streaks of tears running down the sides of her face.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, trying to divert the question. How did she know that he sometimes dreamed of Granger? Did he say her name in his sleep? Did Blaise and Millicent hear it too?

"A while," she whispered again, clutching the blanket tight in her grasp.

The world came crashing back down, and the force hit him so hard that he actually had to lay back down to keep from getting dizzy.

The two sat in silence for a long time. A window must have been opened somewhere, for the quiet sounds of chirping crickets filtered through the darkness. Fingers reached out and touched Draco's hand, and he felt himself stiffen up at the contact. Pansy's skin was warm to the touch, almost scorching.

"Draco?"

He glanced over at her to see her looking at him. There was fear hidden in her brown eyes, and her newly cut bangs clung to her sweaty forehead.

"I'm scared." She said for the first time, confessing it out loud for the world to hear.

"I know." Was all he could think to say back. Because he did know. They were all scared. Millicent was scared, Blaise was scared, and even Draco was scared. They lived in a world where it was considered a blessing just to be alive at the end of the day. A world that would not exist if it were not for them and their families. They royally fucked shit up for everybody, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"Why did you cut your hair?" he finally asked, after a long moment of silence passed between them.

"To feel brave," she said, and he was surprised that she answered him with such honesty. "Do you… like it?"

He had to think about it. Pansy had always been an attractive girl. Maybe not attractive in the way Millicent was attractive. Blonde hair with shapely hips. But Pansy was her own kind of attractive. The kind that becomes more apparent the more time you spend with her.

"Yes,"

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… like me?"

It spilled out of him without him knowing what he was saying.

"Yes,"

"Would you… marry me?"

He blinked into the darkness and he felt his blood run cold. He knew why she was asking. She was not asking because she liked him at all. She was asking because she wanted an escape from the inevitably doom that she would soon be facing. Soon she would be 22, and soon she would marry whatever man her parents deemed fit for her.

"No," he said, whispering the word as though to soften the blow.

A tear streaked down her face and she lifted her arm up to clasp around his shoulder, the other slithering behind his neck. He let her pull him close. Could feel the heat of her body washing over him through her blanket. She did not cry into his chest, like he was expecting her too. Instead, she lifted her gaze up to him and he caught her eye.

Her hand grasped the back of his neck and her lips caught his. He stiffened, even as his eyes slid shut, and he stayed completely still. He felt her finger slide down his neck, down his chest, before stopping at his midsection.

He tried to stay still. He tried to think of anything else around him. But it was impossible. Her breath smelled of the left over toxins of the spell from the wine, and her lips were soft and nimble against his. He grabbed for her arm, pulling her flesh against him.

For a moment, they were caught. Tied together by each other's limbs. Desperately trying to pull comfort from the other. But it was no use.

They broke apart and the air grew cold, even as their warm bodies stayed snug together. Pansy leaned her head against his chest, and he felt the wetness of tears soaking him. He gripped her tight, feeling the searing discomfort behind his eyes as he tried to fight back his own tears of frustration. He would not cry, especially not in front of her.

They laid there all night, wrapped up in each other and yet feeling no comfort. Pansy must have fallen asleep at some point, but Draco's eyes stayed fixed on a spot on the wall somewhere over her head.

He didn't know how many hours he lay on the uncomfortable ground before daylight started to shine through the windows.

Blaise was the first to stir awake. He lifted the vase up to inspect it with a confused expression marring his face before he reached over and set it gently on the coffee table. Draco watched as the other man looked around the room, spotting Millicent curled up in her chair before his eyes finally landed on the pair sleeping on the ground.

They stared each other down, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

Feeling courageous, and rather stiff, Draco was the one that broke the silence. He shifted his arm out from under Pansy before he pulled himself up. His button up shirt was stained with some type of frosting, and he didn't have the energy to try and think about where it had come from. The night before was a blur of colors and sounds, most of which he didn't even know if they were real or not.

Blaise was on his feet just moments after him and, with a backwards glance towards the girls, the two headed for the front door.

Exiting out into the sun was one of the most painful experiences of Draco's life. As if hangovers weren't bad enough. The sun beat down with no mercy, reflecting off Blaise's white shirt and Draco's platinum hair.

"I can't keep living like this," Blaise muttered, reaching a hand up to shield his eyes.

"How else are you going to live?" Draco dared to ask, feeling sluggish and tired. The only thing he could think about was a nice cup of tea and a nap in his own bed.

A moment of silence passed between them before Blaise started off down the steps and towards the road.

Draco stared after him, scowling with discomfort.

"How else are you going to live, Blaise?" Draco called after him, trying not to be too loud in case any ears were listening to them.

Blaise lifted a hand over his head, a goodbye without a backwards glance, before he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.


End file.
